


Evenings in the Library

by rubyofkukundu



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Community: smut_fest, Historical, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyofkukundu/pseuds/rubyofkukundu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Reginald Bois and Mr John Lovell have stayed up all night talking again. They are ever such good friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evenings in the Library

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here: <http://smut-fest.livejournal.com/53630.html>  
> Mirrored here: <http://smut-fest.dreamwidth.org/50915.html>
> 
> This is a fill for the following prompt:  
> Two best friends take their relationship to the next level, discovering more about each other and themselves.

A house on Wilton Crescent in London's Knightsbridge is always a pleasant place to be and the library of such a house is more pleasant still. This particular house, facing the lush, green garden and standing tall behind the finely-wrought gas lamps, belonged to the Lord Akestone, though he rarely came to town. As was more common, the occupants of the library on this night were Mr Reginald Bois, Lord Akestone's nephew, and Mr John Lovell, Bois' friend.  
  
Lovell was at the piano where he was playing the final few bars of a piece by Schubert. Bois, meanwhile, had thrown off his jacket and was seated on the sofa, watching Lovell play. He stubbed out the end of his cigarette in an ashtray as Lovell stood and walked over.  
  
"Bravo, Jack!" Bois clapped his hands. "Oh, do play another. I love to hear you play."  
  
Lovell stifled a yawn as he sat down beside Bois. "I am too tired to play any more, Reggie. There is only so much in me at any time."  
  
Bois pouted. "I should learn to play myself. Then I wouldn't be subject to your cruel whims." He turned to Lovell with a glint in his eye. "Will you teach me, Jack?"  
  
Lovell laughed. "I don't think so." He threw Bois a smile. "You know you would never practice."  
  
"I would!" protested Bois. "If I had a good teacher, which I am certain you would be, then I would practice constantly!"  
  
Lovell merely laughed harder. He wiped at his eyes and sat up straight. "Give me your hand," he requested.  
  
Bois gave him an uncertain look.  
  
"Come on, Reggie. Give me your hand." Lovell held out his own.  
  
With a frown, Bois put his hand into Lovell's and watched as Lovell turned it over.  
  
Lovell's fingers looked all the darker contrasted against Bois' skin. He pushed up the cuff of Bois' shirt and inspected his wrist, then straightened Bois' fingers and looked at each one in turn.  
  
Bois' cheeks had turned pink. He was trying not to laugh. "What ever are you doing?" he asked.  
  
Turning over Bois' hand once more, Lovell finally snorted and sat back. "No," he declared.  
  
"No?" Bois frowned. "'No', what?"  
  
"I couldn't teach you to play the piano even if I wanted to," said Lovell. He gave Bois a smirk. "Your fingers are far too short."  
  
Bois made an exasperated noise and leaned across to grab up one of Lovell's hands. Lovell was too busy laughing to protest.  
  
"You are beastly, Jack." Bois pressed their palms together, pale skin to dark, and compared the length of their fingers. "My fingers are not that much shorter. I'm considering having you charged for slander."  
  
Lovell laughed all the more and curled his hand, lacing their fingers together.  
  
Bois' cheeks flushed again. He stared at their joined hands as Lovell's laughter subsided.  
  
"Jack..." started Bois quietly.  
  
"Oh!" Suddenly Lovell's eyes widened and he sat up.  
  
Bois frowned. "Jack!"  
  
Lovell shushed him and appeared to be listening.  
  
Faintly, from outside, there came the sound of birdsong.  
  
Bois' eyes widened in return. With a gasp, he dropped Lovell's hand and headed across to the window, where he pulled open the curtains. Outside, beyond the dark shapes of the trees, there was the faint glow of dawn.  
  
Lovell smiled across at the window. "We've stayed up all night."  
  
"We have," said Bois happily, but then he started and raised his hands with a groan. "Oh, I was supposed to go to Lady Whiteridge's for luncheon tomorrow--" he shook his head, "today, I mean. I swear she is going to flay me alive if I miss another one!" Bois turned to glower at Lovell. "You are a terrible influence on me, Jack."  
  
"I?" laughed Lovell. "You're the bad influence, Reggie. I haven't kept a morning appointment in months."  
  
Bois' scowl turned into a wry smile. "You are right," he said. "We are a terrible influence on each other." Chuckling, he plucked at the edge of the curtain. "And, really, Lady Whiteridge has only herself to blame. She should never have introduced us."  
  
Lovell snorted a laugh. "It's her fault now, is it?" He shrugged. "Though I doubt it could have been avoided. You know how she likes to introduce me to everyone."  
  
"That's because you're her favourite guest." Bois wandered back over to the sofa and sat down. "She thinks you're ever so exotic, Jack."  
  
Lovell sighed. "My mother again..."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," said Bois brightly. "You know it's because you studied at Cambridge."  
  
Lovell laughed heartily at that, and it took him a few moments to compose himself. "Cambridge, you say? If that is the case, then I can't deny it. I was far too frivolous at that age." He leaned an elbow against the back of the sofa. "In fact," he said with a smile, "I almost considered studying in London at one point."  
  
Bois opened his eyes in mock horror. "Oh don't tell Lady Whiteridge," he cried. "She'd fall down in a swoon!"  
  
***  
  
The next afternoon Lovell returned to Wilton Crescent. In the library the shadows on the books were lengthening as the footmen brought in the tea things and retired.  
  
Bois was seated in an armchair beside the fireplace.  
  
"Did you visit Lady Whiteridge?" asked Lovell as he took the seat opposite.  
  
"Oh, of course not." Bois set down his cup. "I've barely just woken up."  
  
Lovell smirked. "I'm glad I wasn't the only one." He picked up his plate and took a bite of his bread and butter before swallowing. "Sometimes I worry that I'll forget what noon is like altogether; I haven't seen it in so long." He took another bite.  
  
Bois shrugged and sipped at his tea. "I'd rather spend the whole night with you than noon with Lady Whiteridge. Always."  
  
Lovell stopped chewing mid-mouthful. He stared at Bois.  
  
Flushing pink, Bois stared in return.  
  
Eventually, Bois coughed and Lovell swallowed.  
  
Bois rested his teacup in his saucer. "Where are you dining tonight?"  
  
"With the Dowlings," said Lovell.  
  
Bois raised his eyebrows. "I don't envy you there."  
  
"They are nice people," protested Lovell.  
  
"And their food is always cold," countered Bois.  
  
Lovell grinned at him. "You are terrible, Reggie."  
  
Bois shrugged. "And if you had a house of your own, Jack, you'd realise that it really isn't too hard to serve a chicken while it's warm." He put his cup and saucer to one side and leaned against the armrest. "Why don't you get yourself a house, Jack? Or a place in the country? A bachelor's rooms can only take you so far."  
  
Lovell sighed as he put down his plate and picked up his tea. "You know how poor my father was when he left for India, Reggie."  
  
"He's not poor now," said Bois. "You should write to him."  
  
"But perhaps I am happy in my bachelor's rooms," said Lovell.  
  
"You might be happy," replied Bois, "but society won't think much of you." He waved a hand. "After all, what about when you decide to start a family?"  
  
Lovell took a sip of his tea. "I'm not planning on having a family any time soon." He put his cup and saucer on the table beside him and looked at Bois. "You are a good friend, Reggie," he said. "My best friend, in fact. You do realise that, don't you?"  
  
"Of course," said Bois. "You're _my_ best friend, and I'd, frankly, be offended if you didn't return the sentiment."  
  
Lovell gave a small chuckle. He rested a hand on his jaw and looked down into the fireplace. "I sometimes think..." he started, and then paused.  
  
Bois watched him. "What do you think?" he asked after a moment.  
  
Lovell ran his fingers over his mouth and breathed out through his nose. He gave Bois a brief smile and then looked away with a shrug. "I don't really think of anything."  
  
Bois took a deep breath as the clock on the mantelpiece struck the half hour.  
  
With a shake of the head, Lovell sat up straight. "All I mean to say is that I'm quite happy living where I am for the moment."  
  
Bois cleared his throat, and then again. He ran a hand through his hair. "Not even a place in the country, though, Jack? My uncle has some excellent shooting at home. You should come and try it out for yourself."  
  
"I hardly think the Lord and Lady Akestone will be happy to receive me," said Lovell.  
  
"Nonsense," replied Bois. "They can hardly turn away my best friend." He looked Lovell in the eye.  
  
"Maybe not." Lovell pulled out his watch and glanced at it. "I should go," he said. "I need to make a few visits before dinner, and I'd hate to be late for the Dowlings."  
  
"All that effort for cold chicken," muttered Bois, reaching across to the bell pull.  
  
Lovell put his watch away and stood.  
  
"Will I see you at the club after dinner?" asked Bois.  
  
Lovell smiled at him as the butler entered. "Perhaps."  
  
***  
  
It was midnight when the door to the library opened and the butler began to light the lamps about the room. Shortly afterwards, Bois arrived with Lovell in tow.  
  
"Franklyn," said Bois to the butler, "bring in the spirits, will you? And some glasses."  
  
Lovell took off his gloves and dropped them onto a side-table. Franklyn, the butler, brought out the spirit-case and unlocked it. He went away again and returned with glasses and a bottle of seltzer water.  
  
"That will be all, Franklyn," said Bois, waving him away. "You needn't stay on our account."  
  
With a nod, Franklyn left the room, shutting the door behind him.  
  
Bois looked to Lovell. "A brandy, as normal?"  
  
"Please," said Lovell, sitting in an armchair.  
  
Bois poured him a drink and then poured one for himself. "I mean to go to bed early tonight," said Bois, handing Lovell his brandy. "I'm not going to stay up until dawn again."  
  
"Then we're of the same mind," said Lovell. "Thank you." He put his drink to one side.  
  
Bois took his own glass to the other armchair, sitting down and crossing one leg over the other. "You're not going to play for me tonight, then, Jack?"  
  
"No." Lovell gave a brief smile. "I'll only get carried away if I do." He folded his arms. "I'm staying for one drink only."  
  
"Very well," said Bois with a sniff. He eyed Lovell's glass. "Would you like me to pour you a larger drink in that case?"  
  
Lovell laughed. "I don't think that's how it's supposed to work, Reggie. Besides, I have drunk more than enough tonight already."  
  
Bois shrugged and took a sip of his own brandy. Lovell, meanwhile, settled down into his chair and looked across at a corner of the room, where the bookshelves faded into darkness.  
  
"Jack," said Bois after a moment. He put down his drink and sat up. "I didn't mean to be flippant about it this afternoon. You _are_ my best friend. You should know that. It means a lot to me."  
  
Lovell smiled. "Don't worry; I believe you. You would hardly have put up with me for this long if you weren't."  
  
"And you will come to stay in the country, won't you?" asked Bois. "In the autumn."  
  
"Do you really think I'd be welcome?" asked Lovell.  
  
"I'd ensure it," said Bois. "Oh, please do, Jack. The country would seem so dull without you there. I'm not sure I could bear to leave you in London."  
  
Lovell chuckled and ducked his head to take a sip of his drink. "Praise indeed," he murmured.  
  
"I do mean it," said Bois.  
  
Lovell looked at him, then down to the floor. He ran a hand over his mouth and put his drink to one side. "Reggie," he started.  
  
Bois leaned forward in his seat. "What is it?"  
  
"You," said Lovell, still looking at the floor, "are perhaps the closest friend I have ever had."  
  
Bois licked his lips. "Ja--"  
  
"And I don't mean to say that I haven't had good friends," said Lovell, "because I have. It's merely that," he looked up, "none have come quite as close as you."  
  
Bois' face had turned pink. He went to speak and then stopped. "You say that..." He coughed. "You speak as if you weren't just as dear to me."  
  
Lovell's face had darkened too. "I am dear to you, Reggie?"  
  
"A man couldn't want for a better friend," said Bois quietly. He opened his jacket and fumbled a hand into the pocket.  
  
Lovell took a deep breath and let it out. He tapped a thumb against the arm of his chair. "Do you ever wonder..." he started. "Do you think that..."  
  
Bois pulled out his cigarette case and opened it, shakily putting a cigarette between his lips. "I think of many things that I shouldn't," he mumbled around it. Then he took a taper to the lamp on the mantelpiece and used it to light his cigarette, throwing the taper into the fireplace when he was done.  
  
"I wonder if that happens to everyone," said Lovell. "Or perhaps it is just us."  
  
Bois took a drag from his cigarette and let it out, staring at Lovell. Eventually he said, "I have no idea what you are talking about, Jack."  
  
"No," agreed Lovell. "Of course not. I told you that I had already drunk too much tonight."  
  
Bois seemed to remember himself at last. He held out his cigarette case to Lovell. "Would you like one?"  
  
"No thanks, Reggie." Lovell downed his drink. "I should go home."  
  
"Mm," said Bois. He watched as Lovell picked up his gloves and left the room.  
  
***  
  
At ten o'clock the next morning, Bois was already awake. The sunlight poured into the library from the large sash windows. Bois was at the bureau opening his letters. A cup of coffee sat beside him.  
  
After a moment the door opened and Franklyn stepped inside. "Mr Lovell is here to see you, sir."  
  
"Oh." Bois looked up. "That's early for him." He turned to Franklyn. "Send him up."  
  
Franklyn bowed and retired. A few moments later, he returned with Lovell.  
  
Bois stood. "A coffee for Mr Lovell, if you please, Franklyn." He took his own coffee and walked over to shake Lovell's hand. "I don't normally expect you at this time, Jack!" He sat down on the sofa and motioned for Lovell to sit beside him.  
  
"I don't normally expect you to be awake at this time either!" countered Lovell. He laughed and sat down. "But I woke so early this morning that I thought you might have done the same. It was a rather early night last night."  
  
"All because you wouldn't play for me, Jack." Bois pouted. "You are ever so cruel."  
  
Franklyn returned with a coffee cup and the coffee pot. He placed the cup next to Lovell and filled it. "Was there anything else, sir?" he asked.  
  
"No, Franklyn," Bois to a sip from his own cup. "That was all." He turned to Lovell as Franklyn left, shutting the door behind him. "And have you done anything useful with your morning, Jack?"  
  
Lovell shrugged. "Does breakfast count?"  
  
Bois scoffed. "Of course breakfast doesn't count. But you have come here afterwards. That makes up for it."  
  
Lovell leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He took a breath and said, "I was more drunk than I realised, last night, Reggie."  
  
Bois paused with his cup to his lips. He took a sip and busied himself with placing the cup and saucer to one side. "You would know that more than I."  
  
"I think," Lovell cleared his throat, "I may have said things that I shouldn't have."  
  
Bois looked at him for a moment. "I don't remember you saying anything in particular. You talked about us being," Bois licked his lips, "friends."  
  
"Yes." Lovell breathed out and looked to Bois with a smile. "That was all. Nothing more." He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip.  
  
"Mm." Bois turned his gaze to the window and they sat in silence for a while.  
  
"I suppose," said Bois eventually, "that I must have been a little drunk too." He tapped his foot on the floor. "After you left I... I had all sorts of strange notions."  
  
Lovell put down his cup and saucer.  
  
Bois ran a hand over his forehead. "I told you," he said quietly, "that I sometimes thought about things that I shouldn't." He glanced at Lovell and then away. "And I almost imagined that I wasn't the only one to suffer from such a..." he waved a hand, "problem."  
  
Lovell took a deep breath and turned to him. "Reggie--"  
  
"There are parts of our friendship," said Bois, looking out of the window, "that terrify me, Jack."  
  
"I know," said Lovell. "And I wish I could find it in me to feel more scared."  
  
Bois turned back to him. "It doesn't scare you?"  
  
Lovell shook his head with a smile. "How can I feel anything other than happiness when I talk to you?"  
  
Bois smiled briefly in return and looked down to his shoe. "We shouldn't be having this conversation," he whispered.  
  
"No," agreed Lovell. He reached across and took one of Bois' hands in one of his own.  
  
Bois looked up with a start, his face turning bright red.  
  
Lovell raised Bois' hand and stared at his fingertips.  
  
Bois' back was rigid. His chest rose and fell.  
  
"Do you ever wonder," murmured Lovell, pausing to swallow, "what would happen if..." He looked Bois in the eye and Bois returned the gaze.  
  
Lovell's breathing was loud, as was Bois'. Slowly, Lovell traced his thumb along the backs of Bois' fingers. Bois' other hand clenched against the upholstery of the sofa.  
  
Then, with a huff of breath, Lovell ducked his head and pressed a kiss to Bois' knuckles.  
  
Bois let out a strangled noise. He pulled his hand from Lovell's and stood up. "Jack..." He turned to face the window, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I think you should go, Jack," Bois' voice cracked. "I don't think I can talk to you any more today."  
  
Lovell breathed out slowly and ran a shaking hand through his hair. "Very well." He stood, and with a brief glance at Bois, turned and left the room.  
  
Bois stared out of the window as the sound of Lovell descending the stairs echoed in from the corridor. Taking a breath, he cradled his hand against his chest and bit his lip.  
  
***  
  
For the next two days, Lovell didn't return. Bois left the house little. He picked up books and put them down and stood looking out of the window at the trees.  
  
It was on the afternoon of the third day that Lovell arrived. He sat in an armchair on one side of the fireplace and Bois took the other. The both of them declined to have tea.  
  
Once they were left alone they were silent, both looking anywhere but at each other.  
  
Finally, Bois said, "I'm glad to see you again, Jack. I am."  
  
"Are you?" asked Lovell. The corner of his mouth curled upwards just slightly.  
  
"It's been frightfully dull without you." Bois lowered his head and looked up at Lovell. "Don't tell me you've been off having the time of your life."  
  
Lovell huffed softly and crossed his legs. "Of course I haven't, Reggie. I've been bored out of my mind."  
  
Bois gave him a smile. "Then that's settled."  
  
Lovell smiled tentatively in return and the silence fell once more.  
  
After a while, Lovell leaned forward. "Reggie, about my last visit..."  
  
"We needn't ever mention it." Bois looked to the side.  
  
"No," agreed Lovell. "It's best that we don't." He put a hand to his mouth. "I am quite happy to act as if nothing happe--"  
  
"Nothing did happen," said Bois, turning to him.  
  
"You are right," said Lovell. "It was nothing. And are you willing to be friends, just as before?"  
  
"Oh, Jack." Bois' face softened. "We have never stopped being friends. And we never will."  
  
Lovell smiled at that, looking away and attempting to stifle it with a cough.  
  
"Tonight, then," said Bois, taking a sharp breath and jumping to his feet. "What did you wish to do? I am dining with Lady Whiteridge..."  
  
"And I am not," replied Lovell.  
  
Bois hummed and paced in a circle. "We could go to the opera? After dinner." He stopped and gave Lovell a wide smile. "How do you fancy it?"  
  
Lovell chuckled slightly. He took his cigarette case out of his breast pocket, picked out a cigarette and gave Bois a smile in return. "Sounds delightful."  
  
***  
  
Later that night, once they had returned from the opera, they were both in high spirits.  
  
"Oh," said Bois from where he sat on the sofa, "it's nice to have you here again, Jack."  
  
Lovell was on the far side of the room, flicking through a book he had picked up from the bookcase. "It is nice to be back," he said. "Waking up early was becoming tiresome."  
  
"All the more reason to celebrate then," said Bois. "Perhaps I should call for more Champagne."  
  
Lovell laughed at him. "We've had more than enough Champagne, Reggie." He closed his book and returned with it to the sofa, where he sat next to Bois.  
  
"You know you sound awfully like my aunt, sometimes," said Bois. He peered at the book in Lovell's hand. "What are you reading?"  
  
"I don't know." Lovell held up the book and frowned at its title, written in Greek. "Something about houses?"  
  
Bois scoffed. "Your Greek is terrible, Jack." He plucked the book from Lovell's hands and flipped through it. "And here I thought you were the scholar between us."  
  
"It's a language that never took to me." Lovell sighed. "I'm afraid I speak better Hindustani than I do Greek."  
  
Bois gasped. "I wouldn't admit that to anyone if I were you."  
  
Lovell leaned across and took back the book. Bois pouted at him as Lovell settled back against the cushions, opening up the book to read it.  
  
After a moment, Bois sighed. "You mean to leave me to my own devices, then, in favour of a book you can't even understand?"  
  
Lovell turned the page. "I can understand it if I take my time, Reggie. I said my Greek was bad; I didn't say it was non-existent."  
  
"Come now, Jack," Bois leaned closer to peer at the book over Lovell's shoulder, "you are doing this to frustrate me. Why bother with something so difficult?"  
  
Behind the book, Lovell was smiling. He turned another page.  
  
"You will give up soon, I'm certain," declared Bois.  
  
"Oh no," said Lovell. "If the language becomes too difficult, I can always just look at the illustrations."  
  
With a huff of breath, Bois wrenched the book out of Lovell's hands and hugged it to his chest.  
  
"Reggie!" Lovell went to take the book back but Bois held it out at arm's length, and when Lovell reached out to the book in Bois' hand, Bois slipped it behind his own back.  
  
Bois was laughing, his eyes bright.  
  
Lovell began to laugh as well. "Reggie," he pleaded, attempting to reach behind Bois but succeeding only in forcing Bois further back against the cushions.  
  
Bois grinned. "I have told you, Jack: you don't want to read this book. Is it really that much more interesting than I am?"  
  
"After this performance," laughed Lovell, leaning closer in an attempt to worm a hand between Bois' back and the sofa, "I can say that, yes, it is."  
  
Bois' cheeks had turned pink. With a pout, he let the book go.  
  
Lovell pulled the book out from behind Bois but didn't glance at it. Instead, he was looking at Bois himself.  
  
Bois' cheeks had darkened further. "Jack..."  
  
The book fell lightly onto the sofa cushions. Lovell's own cheeks were dark.  
  
Bois took a deep breath, as did Lovell. They stayed staring at each other for several moments.  
  
Then, Lovell leaned back. He looked down between them and, slowly, placed a hand on Bois' knee.  
  
Bois' lips parted. He made a small sound, his gaze dropping to Lovell's hand.  
  
The cloth of Bois' trousers rustled as the hand squeezed.  
  
Bois moistened his lips and Lovell swallowed.  
  
Carefully, moving ever so slowly, Bois reached forward and placed his own hand on the outside of Lovell's thigh.  
  
Lovell's next breath shuddered out of him.  
  
Bois' face was red. His arm was trembling. "Jack..."  
  
"Oh, Reggie," murmured Lovell. He watch his fingers as they smoothed their way up from Bois' knee to rest on the top of his thigh, thumb pressing inwards.  
  
Bois inhaled and licked his lips.  
  
Lovell swallowed, leaning closer. "I..." he said to Bois' shoulder. "I have desired..."  
  
Bois breathed out heavily, and then again. "Oh, Jack," his mouth pulled down into a grimace and he pushed Lovell away with shaking hands. "No." He stood and looked at Lovell with pleading eyes. "You're not supposed to desire anything."  
  
Lovell took an uncertain breath and stood. "Are you saying that you..."  
  
Bois backed away, shaking his head. He stepped up to the bell pull and tugged on it several times. "I need coffee," he declared. "I have drunk too much."  
  
Lovell ran his hands over his mouth. "You will wake Franklyn up."  
  
"I do not care," said Bois, stumbling over to an armchair and sitting down.  
  
Lovell looked to the carpet, the corners of his mouth dragging down. "Would you like me to go?" he asked.  
  
"No." Bois rubbed at the corners of his eyes, staring down into the fireplace. "You needn't do that." His lips trembled. "I merely need to sober up, is all."  
  
Five minutes later, Franklyn arrived, looking as if he had dressed in a hurry.  
  
Bois was sitting with folded arms, watching the end of his shoe dance as he jogged his foot up and down. Lovell was pacing at the far end of the room, a lit cigarette in hand.  
  
Franklyn attempted to stifle a yawn. "You rang f--"  
  
"Coffee," said Bois. "For the both of us."  
  
With a weary nod, Franklyn left to do as he was told.  
  
Lovell had nearly finished his cigarette by the time Franklyn returned.  
  
"Thank you," said Bois as a cup was filled and placed beside him. He looked across to Lovell. "Do you mean to take yours over there, Jack?"  
  
Lovell glanced about himself and shrugged. He turned to Bois. "I don't know what I mean to do."  
  
Bois sighed. "Franklyn, take Mr Lovell's coffee over to him, will you?" He pressed his lips together as he watched Franklyn walk over and fill Lovell's coffee cup. "Why don't you play the piano, Jack?" suggested Bois. "You haven't done that in a while."  
  
Lovell stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray. "Very well," he said. With a sigh, he picked up his cup and took it over to sit at the piano.  
  
"That will be all," said Bois to Franklyn, who was waiting beside him.  
  
Franklyn bowed and left the room, attempting to stifle another yawn as he went.  
  
Lovell was flipping through the music books at the piano. "Do you wish to hear anything in particular, Reggie?" he asked over his shoulder.  
  
Bois waved a careless hand. "No," he said. "Play whatever you like."  
  
After a few more moments, Lovell chose a piece by Mendelssohn. He set it on the stand and, taking one more sip of his coffee, began to play.  
  
Bois sat and listened in silence. At first, he stared across at the bookcases in front of him, but it wasn't long before he turned to watch Lovell.  
  
The piece that Lovell had chosen increased in tempo. His hands danced over the keys, his body swaying as he went.  
  
Bois bit his lip.  
  
Lovell continued, pausing only briefly every now and again to turn the page.  
  
Bois' gaze hadn't left Lovell's hands. He shifted in his chair, his face flushed. Eventually he turned away, closing his eyes. Restlessly, he scratched at the arm of his chair with a fingernail.  
  
This didn't last for long. Finally, just as Lovell was reaching a crescendo, Bois stood. "Jack." His face was bright red.  
  
Lovell stumbled over the next few notes and then stopped. He turned questioningly to Bois.  
  
"I'm sorry." Bois looked away. "I can't," he said, voice catching. He shook his head. "You're going to have to go, Jack."  
  
Lovell closed his eyes and breathed out. Opening them, he stared at the keyboard for a second and then stood.  
  
Bois was facing the fireplace.  
  
Lovell didn't look at him as he passed. "Will you ring for Franklyn?" asked Lovell, opening the door and stepping outside. "I'll wait for him downstairs."  
  
***  
  
The next day, Bois rose late. As soon as he entered the library, he rang the bell.  
  
When Franklyn arrived, Bois was sitting at the bureau.  
  
"I have a lot to do get through today," said Bois, putting down his letter-knife. He turned to Franklyn. "I'm not at home to anyone. Do you understand?"  
  
Franklyn opened his mouth.  
  
"Not even to Mr Lovell," clarified Bois.  
  
Franklyn looked at him. "As you wish, sir," he said after a moment.  
  
"Good," said Bois, turning back around.  
  
With a bow, Franklyn left the room.  
  
When he had gone, and had shut the door behind him, Bois breathed out and put his face in his hands. He stayed that way for a long moment and then groaned.  
  
Sitting up, he looked out of the window. The day was overcast but the birds in the trees were still calling out to each other. He stood and walked closer, leaning against the window-frame and frowning out at the view.  
  
After five minutes, Bois moved away from the window. He made one full circuit of the room and then started another, this time stopping at the piano. The fallboard was open and the sheet music was out, just as Lovell had left it the night before.  
  
With a sigh, Bois leaned across pressed down one of the keys. It echoed dully across the room.  
  
Bois huffed. He closed the music book and put down the fallboard, none too gently; then he straightened up and headed back over to his bureau.  
  
***  
  
Later that day, Franklyn arrived. "Mr Lovell--" he started.  
  
"I thought I had told you that I am not at home to Mr Lovell," snapped Bois.  
  
"You did." Franklyn bowed his head. "But Mr Lovell hasn't called." Franklyn held up the tray he was carrying, on which sat a letter. "His man came with this. There is no reply."  
  
"Oh." Bois sat up. He stared at the letter and then picked it up. "Thank you, Franklyn," he said absently, turning over the letter in his hands.  
  
As Franklyn left, Bois picked up his letter-knife and opened the envelope. Inside it were three sheets of paper, so thick with Lovell's rounded handwriting that he had even written over himself in places. Bois glanced at each of them with wide eyes. Finally, he set all of them down on the bureau save for the first sheet and began to read.  
  
It took a minute or so before Bois huffed. He read some more and then huffed again, the corner of his mouth curling upwards. On reading partway through the second sheet Bois laughed. He put the sheet down and smiled at the wall, then he covered his smile with the palm of his hand and picked up the letter again, his cheeks growing pink as he read further.  
  
"Oh, you fool, Jack," muttered Bois once he had reached the end of the last sheet. He gave the letter a fond look. "You ridiculous fool."  
  
It was a while before Bois put the letter down. He coughed, ran a hand through his hair, then pulled out a sheet of paper and picked up his pen.  
  
Bois was nearly half-an-hour in composing his reply. When he was done, he folded up the sheets of paper, placed them in an envelope, and rang for Franklyn again.  
  
He had just finished addressing the envelope when Franklyn arrived. Bois held it out to him. "Have someone run this round to Mr Lovell, please, Franklyn."  
  
Franklyn took the envelope from him. "Certainly, sir."  
  
"And, Franklyn," Bois leaned an arm on the back of his chair, "I know I had said that I was dining at home tonight, but there has been a change of plans. Mr Lovell and I will be dining at the club, so you needn't prepare anything for me."  
  
Franklyn nodded. "I shall let the kitchen know."  
  
Bois smiled at him and then turned to smile out of the window.  
  
***  
  
It was late in the evening when Bois returned. Lovell was with him.  
  
Bois had Franklyn set out the spirit-case and the glasses, and then dismissed him for the night.  
  
"Only one drink tonight, Reggie," said Lovell as Bois handed him his brandy. Lovell took it to the sofa and sat down. "I have found that I lose my... better judgement... when I have any more."  
  
Bois carried his own glass over to an armchair and set it on a side-table. He turned the chair towards Lovell and then sat down, pulling out his cigarette case and taking a cigarette from it.  
  
Lovell looked at him, but Bois said nothing; he was too busy lighting his cigarette and blowing the smoke out into the air.  
  
"I half thought I should never be allowed in this house again," said Lovell.  
  
Bois turned his eyes upon him. Then Bois leaned across and took a sip of his brandy. When he put the glass down he huffed a smile and said, "You have a way with words, Jack."  
  
"I thought you might scorn me for it," replied Lovell.  
  
Bois stood and walked over to the bureau.  
  
"I hope you don't," said Lovell.  
  
Bois opened a drawer in the bureau and pulled out three sheets of paper. He turned and threw Lovell a grin. "You say that right here," said Bois. He took a drag from his cigarette and breathed out, reading from the first sheet, "'Dear Reggie, I fear that I have damaged what cannot be repaired and the thought of it fills me with the deepest melancholy...'"  
  
Lovell's cheeks had darkened. "I was telling the truth." He took a sip of his drink.  
  
Bois gave him another smile and walked back over to his armchair, still reading, "'If there is anything I can do to make amends, I will do it. I am but your humble servant...'"  
  
"Reggie..." started Lovell.  
  
Bois sat down and turned to the second sheet. "'I would place the very oceans at your feet if I had the power to do so.'" He glanced to Lovell, then back down to the letter. "'... I would even pluck the stars from the sky if it would make you think the better of me...'" Bois looked up with pink cheeks.  
  
Lovell bit his lip and looked to the side.  
  
"Jack," Bois was smiling, "I have never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life! I'm surprised you didn't go all the way and write it in verse!" He laughed as he tapped the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray beside him.  
  
"Would that have helped?" asked Lovell.  
  
"Oh, Jack," Bois took another drag from his cigarette, "I could never think the worse of you for anything. Surely my reply made that clear."  
  
Lovell leaned forward and looked down at the floor. "You said that I was your dearest friend," he coughed, "and that you'd rather lose... an arm than lose my company."  
  
Bois gave him a soft smile. "I mean it, Jack." He took a final drag from his cigarette and then stubbed it out. "Losing you would hurt me far more."  
  
Lovell's cheeks were red. He looked up and licked his lips.  
  
"I have been scared," said Bois quietly, looking down at the arm of his chair. "Very scared. But never because of you." He threw a glance at Lovell. "It is myself that I am scared of."  
  
"If we agree..." started Lovell. "If we take care to be vigilant and learn which situations might lead to," he swallowed, "a moment of weakness, then with practice we can surely avoid--"  
  
"I'm not sure I have it in me to avoid anything," said Bois.  
  
Lovell stared at him.  
  
"I have been thinking, this afternoon," said Bois, "and while I know that I am scared, I don't think I have the will left to stop myself."  
  
"You mean--" started Lovell.  
  
"Yet, knowing that..." Bois pushed himself out of his chair with trembling hands and walked over to the sofa, where he sat down beside Lovell. "Knowing that, I can't bear not to see you." He swallowed. "Knowing that, I still asked you here tonight."  
  
Lovell looked at him with wide eyes. "I only meant to stay for one drink."  
  
"And will you?" asked Bois.  
  
Lovell opened his mouth and then shut it again. He took a deep breath through his nose and then, carefully, just like the night before, he reached across and put a hand on Bois' knee.  
  
"Oh, Jack," murmured Bois. He looked down and placed a shaking hand on Lovell's own knee, squeezing, and then running the hand up further to squeeze Lovell's thigh.  
  
Lovell took several deep breaths. His hand was shaking just as much as Bois' when he ran it along the outside of Bois' thigh, over the material of his trousers, and up to stroke the backs of his fingers against the curve of Bois' hip.  
  
Bois shifted, turning around to face Lovell, one knee up on the sofa. His lips were trembling as he picked up Lovell's dislodged hand and placed it back on this thigh. He swallowed and leaned his head closer to Lovell's shoulder, looking down to run his thumb up the inside seam of Lovell's trousers.  
  
"Reggie," whispered Lovell, turning his head to rest his cheek against Bois' hair, "you..." he took a breath, "you don't know what you do to me." Slowly, he squeezed Bois' thigh once, and then again, kneading it with his palm.  
  
Bois breathed in shakily. "I think I do," he said, smoothing his fingers up over the creases of material where thigh met hip. "If it is anything like that which you do to me."  
  
Lovell pulled back, red-faced. He looked Bois in the eye.  
  
Bois returned the gaze, breathing hard through his nose.  
  
Lovell's lips parted. Bois' did the same. Then Bois ducked his head and moved his hand down to cup between Lovell's legs, where Lovell's cock was hard beneath his trousers.  
  
"Oh." Lovell closed his eyes and licked his lips. "We shouldn't be doing this, Reggie."  
  
"No," agreed Bois, pressing down with the heel of his palm. His face was flushed.  
  
Lovell opened his eyes and used his hands to usher Bois up onto his knees to straddle his lap. Bois complied, leaning an elbow against the back of the sofa as Lovell pressed a hand to his groin, his fingers tracing the contours of Bois' cock through the fabric.  
  
"Jack," breathed Bois against Lovell's jaw. "Jack." He placed his hand back between Lovell's legs and squeezed, working Lovell's cock through his trousers.  
  
Lovell's back arched, his legs spreading wider, and he began to knead Bois' cock in return.  
  
Bois breathed heavily and licked his lips. "You don't know," he said to Lovell's cheek, "just how much I have wanted this, Jack."  
  
"Oh, Reggie," murmured Lovell.  
  
"For so long," whispered Bois. His hips shuddered and he made a small noise in the back of his throat. "It's been almost tortuous."  
  
"And you think I haven't been tortured in return?" Lovell pressed his lips to Bois' hair. "The thoughts," he said, "that I have entertained about you." He took a breath. "Some nights I have hardly slept, Reggie."  
  
Bois groaned and bit his lip. He pulled back and gave Lovell a desperate look.  
  
Lovell gave him one in return, open-mouthed. Then Lovell leaned forward and pressed their lips together.  
  
Bois' free hand stuttered against the back of the sofa. His hips rocked up into Lovell's grasp and he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against Lovell's. "Jack," he said. "Jack. Jack."  
  
Lovell kissed Bois again, briefly, before pulling away panting. "I am not going to last very long, Reggie," he breathed.  
  
Bois merely groaned again. He took a deep breath and looked down to Lovell's lap. Fumbling with shaking fingers, he began to undo the buttons of Lovell's fly.  
  
"Oh, damn," hissed Lovell. Jerkily, he attempted to return the compliment, unbuttoning Bois' fly and only stopping when Bois had completed his task and pushed a hand down to clutch Lovell's cock inside his trousers.  
  
"Reggie..." Lovell's head fell back, mouth open. His chest heaved.  
  
Bois' face was bright red. He stared down into Lovell's lap, where fingers shifted under fabric.  
  
Lovell bit his lip. He brought his hands up to his face, scrubbing at his temples with the heels of his palms. "Oh."  
  
A smile curled its way across Bois' mouth and he leaned closer to press a kiss to the hollow of Lovell's cheek.  
  
Opening his eyes, Lovell hauled himself upright. He paused as a shudder overtook him and then reached out to finish unbuttoning Bois' fly. When he was done, he pushed both of his hands down inside the front of Bois' trousers and curled them around Bois' cock.  
  
Bois jerked, leaning a hand on Lovell's shoulder for balance. "Oh, Jack," he whispered. The sound of rustling fabric filled the room. "Your hands..."  
  
Lovell turned to grin at him, breathless.  
  
Bois licked his lips before lowering his eyes and kissing Lovell once more.  
  
Lovell groaned into the kiss, back arching. His hands sped up, movements jerky, causing Bois to tremble.  
  
"Oh." Lovell gasped, suddenly breaking the kiss. "Oh, Reggie!" He grimaced and his head fell back, hands stalling in their task and his legs jerking. Sharply, he breathed in, and then again.  
  
Bois moaned, red-cheeked, looking down to Lovell's lap. When Lovell had stilled, Bois removed his hand from Lovell's trousers, sticky with semen. "Jack," he whispered.  
  
Lovell swallowed, his breathing slowing down. He lifted his head, face flushed, and gave Bois a grin.  
  
Bois gave him a breathless smile in return.  
  
Then Lovell leaned forward and set his hands to work on Bois' cock once more.  
  
Bois shuddered heavily at the touch. With darkened cheeks, he leaned one hand against Lovell's shoulder and the other he held out to look at, making a fist and then opening it out again, watching the semen squelch between his fingers. His chest heaved with every breath.  
  
Lovell bit his lip. He sped up his hands and watched as Bois squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
"Oh, Jack." Bois leaned closer and nosed against the side of Lovell's face, his tongue stuttering along the curve of Lovell's jaw. "Oh, Jack. Oh, Jack. Oh--!"  
  
Bois went taut, his hand clenching hard against Lovell's shoulder and his breath ragged in the air. Lovell watched him with lips pressed together tightly.  
  
Finally, Bois whined a noise and went limp, pushing his face against the back of the sofa and breathing heavily.  
  
With a small, shaky smile, Lovell retracted his hands and reached awkwardly down into his own pockets to pull out a handkerchief.  
  
Slowly, Bois' breathing calmed. He arched his back and then moved to sit down beside Lovell on the sofa. Lovell passed him the handkerchief and Bois took it but didn't use it, instead staring across at the mantelpiece. His cheeks had grown pale.  
  
"Reggie..." started Lovell.  
  
Bois swallowed and gave out a small, unhappy noise. He looked down at his hands. "Regrets are funny things, aren't they, Jack?" he said in a quiet voice. "You never think you're going to have them until after it's too late."  
  
"Oh, Reggie, no." Lovell's mouth had pulled down. "You can't--"  
  
"I have been so swept up that I didn't want to stop it," said Bois, "even though I knew that it was wrong." He turned to Lovell with wide eyes. "Something very wrong happened here tonight, Jack." He looked down and hurriedly wiped off his hand with the handkerchief. "And to think that at any moment someone could have walked in and exposed our shame for what it was. Could still expose us, in fact."  
  
Lovell was shaking his head. "But Franklyn has gone to bed, Reggie. You know that no-one else would be up at this hour."  
  
Bois threw down the handkerchief, did up his trousers and stood. He covered his mouth with a hand. "I need to go to bed," he murmured from behind it. "I need to be alone." He threw Lovell a scared look.  
  
"Reggie," pleaded Lovell. He pocketed his handkerchief and stood, re-buttoning his fly as he did so. "Please don't--"  
  
"I need to think." Bois paced in a circle. "I don't..." He put his hands to his head and glanced at Lovell. "Your presence is dangerous to me, Jack." Then he headed for the door.  
  
A pained look passed across Lovell's face. He strode over to Bois and grabbed his wrist. "Reggie--"  
  
"No!" cried Bois. He pulled himself free and continued for the door. "I'm going to bed," he declared. "You'll have to see yourself out," he said to Lovell. "I can't have you waking up Franklyn."  
  
"Please, Reggie," said Lovell, but Bois had already opened the door and left.  
  
***  
  
The next morning found Bois in a dressing gown, lying listlessly on the sofa. His eyes were red and his face blotchy.  
  
After a moment, Franklyn entered.  
  
"Ah," said Bois quietly, not getting up. "There you are, Franklyn."  
  
Franklyn put his hands behind his back.  
  
"I am unwell today, Franklyn," said Bois, staring up at the ceiling. "I am not at home to anyone, especially not to Mr Lovell." He sniffed and folded his arms across his chest. "I feel terrible."  
  
Franklyn frowned down at him. "Should I call for a doctor?"  
  
"No." Bois wrinkled his nose. "No, that won't be necessary." He looked up at Franklyn. "Just a glass of water will do for now."  
  
Franklyn bowed and left.  
  
Bois turned to stare back up at the ceiling. He rubbed at the corner of his eye with the back of a knuckle and sighed.  
  
A few minutes later, Franklyn returned. Bois waved a careless hand at the table beside him and Franklyn set the glass of water down as instructed.  
  
"Was there anything else--" started Franklyn.  
  
"No," said Bois. "That was all." He folded his arms again as Franklyn left. Then, once the door had shut, Bois curled onto his side, lips trembling.  
  
He lay that way for more than half an hour. Occasionally his shoulders shook.  
  
Finally, Bois rolled over and sat up. He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and blew his nose. Seeming to notice the glass of water beside him, he picked it up and drank half of its contents in one go. Then he stood and wandered over to the bureau.  
  
Sitting down, Bois pulled out some letter paper and a pen. He stared at the wall, running a hand through his hair. After a moment, he dipped his pen in the ink, leaned over and started to write.  
  
It took a long time, as he often stopped to look about himself, frowning and biting at his lip, but finally he finished. With the briefest of smiles, Bois threw down his pen, then took up his sheets of paper and began to read through them.  
  
By the time he had finished reading the first side, his smile had turned into a pout. He hastily turned over and continued reading. It wasn't long before his hands started shaking.  
  
Eventually, after turning to the third sheet of paper, Bois scowled and dropped it to the table.  
  
"No," he muttered, standing up. "No. No. No."  
  
He fumbled in the pockets of his dressing gown and pulled out a box of matches. Then he grabbed up the pieces of paper and stalked over to the fireplace, where he set about burning them, one by one.  
  
When Bois was done, his face was more blotched than ever. Sniffing heartily, he wandered back over to the sofa and resumed his earlier position.  
  
***  
  
At one o'clock, Franklyn returned.  
  
"No, I don't fancy eating anything," said Lovell before Franklyn had taken two steps into the room.  
  
Franklyn coughed. "Certainly." He held out a tray. "A letter has just arrived for you, sir, from Mr Lovell."  
  
Wide-eyed, Bois sat up. He looked up to Franklyn and then down at the letter. After a moment, he wrinkled his nose, his mouth pulling down. "Send it back," he declared.  
  
Franklyn jerked. He frowned down at Bois. "You wish me to--"  
  
"Send it back," repeated Bois, looking up at Franklyn. "I don't want to read it."  
  
Franklyn's face had turned pink. He coughed. "Is that the reply you wish to send with it, sir?"  
  
Bois stood and wandered over to the window. "I have no reply, Franklyn. Just see it sent back, will you?" He waved a vague hand in Franklyn's direction. "Run after Lovell's man and get him to take it."  
  
Franklyn's lips moved for a moment before he uttered any words. "As you wish, sir," he said finally, and left.  
  
When Franklyn had gone, Bois turned his back to the window and sank to the ground with a sigh. Biting his lip, he plucked at the carpet in front of him. His cheeks were bright red.  
  
***  
  
For the rest of the day, Bois didn't move from the library, taking a small dinner there in the evening before retiring early to bed.  
  
The next day continued much as the first, with Bois telling Franklyn that he didn't wish to receive any visitors that day.  
  
At three o'clock in the afternoon, Bois was still in his dressing gown and was sitting curled up on the sofa, listlessly flipping through a book on his knees. From downstairs, there came the sound of voices.  
  
The voices grew louder and Bois looked up as several shouts came from the stairs along with heavy footsteps.  
  
"No," called the voice of Franklyn. "You can't-- Stop that! Mr Lovell!"  
  
The door to the library opened and Lovell ran inside with Franklyn hot on his heels.  
  
"I am sorry, sir!" gasped Franklyn, red-faced, turning to Bois. "I told him that you weren't in but he insisted on running up the--"  
  
"It's not Franklyn's fault," interjected Lovell, swallowing to catch his breath. He had his hat in his hands. "It's my fault entirely."  
  
Franklyn pressed his lips together and looked to Lovell, nostrils flaring.  
  
"Reggie--" started Lovell.  
  
"It's fine," said Bois. He coughed and waved a hand at Franklyn. "It's not your fault, Franklyn. You may go."  
  
With a glare at Lovell, Franklyn did as he was told, shutting the door loudly behind him.  
  
For a moment, the sound of Franklyn's footsteps on the stairs was the only noise in the room. Lovell looked at Bois and Bois looked at Lovell in return. There was a flush on both their cheeks.  
  
Eventually, Lovell tossed his hat onto a table and sauntered over to sit in an armchair. "I wrote it in verse this time, you know," he said.  
  
Bois' jaw tightened. "You're not supposed to be here."  
  
"And neither are you." Lovell looked him in the eye. "Franklyn told me you weren't at home."  
  
Bois sat up and straightened his dressing gown, putting his book to one side. "I am not at home," he said, looking up at the ceiling. "Not to you."  
  
Lovell sighed. "Reggie, you must know how wretched I have felt these past two--"  
  
"And you think I haven't felt wretched?" Bois turned to glare at him, his voice cracking. "Do I look like someone who is perfectly happy?"  
  
Lovell gave him a long look. "No," he said, "you don't."  
  
"Well then." Bois gestured at the door. "Leave me alone."  
  
"And for how long?" scoffed Lovell. "Forever?" He stood out of his chair and walked over to the sofa. "I refuse to agree to that."  
  
Bois recoiled over to the far end of the sofa as Lovell sat down. "I thought I had made my position quite clear," said Bois.  
  
"And I haven't made mine clear enough," said Lovell, turning to look Bois in the eye. "I love you, Reggie."  
  
"Shh!" Bois' eyes widened even as his cheeks flushed. "Be quiet! In God's name, don't say that!"  
  
"It is true though," said Lovell.  
  
Bois put both of his hands over his mouth. He blinked his eyes and sniffed. "Oh, Jack," he said quietly.  
  
Lovell's hands curled against his knees. "Reggie," he said, "can't we come to a resolution that would leave the both of us happy?"  
  
Bois pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped at his eyes then stood and took a few steps out into the room. "You know that's not possible," he muttered.  
  
"Why not?" asked Lovell.  
  
Bois frowned at him. "Do you not remember what happened the last time you were here?"  
  
"I remember that I enjoyed it," said Lovell.  
  
Bois sighed as he pocketed his handkerchief. "And that's the problem," he said, "because I... I wanted it," he plucked at his sleeve, "and I enjoyed it too. And even now..."  
  
Lovell's cheeks grew pink. "Even now...?"  
  
"Oh, Jack," Bois threw up his hands, "if you knew how happy I am just to see your face again..." He pushed his hands through his hair and paced across the room, giving out a strangled noise. "There really is no hope for me."  
  
"On the contrary--" started Lovell.  
  
"Jack," Bois walked back over to the sofa and, pushing up his sleeves, sat down again, "you are right. I haven't done you the justice of an explanation. Yesterday, I set it out in a letter to you, but I lost my nerve and destroyed it before I could send it." He looked Lovell in the eye.  
  
Lovell gave a tentative smile.  
  
"You should know, Jack," Bois reached out with shaking hands and took Lovell's own, "that I have never been so happy as when I've been with you," he took a shuddery breath, "and that everything you say is," he swallowed, "true for me also."  
  
Lovell's eyes widened. "You mean that you--"  
  
"Don't say it!" said Bois sharply. He looked down to their hands. "Please don't say it." He licked his lips. "And that is why this is so difficult. Because, while you rightly suggest that we should keep vigilant in order to stall ourselves before anything..." he huffed, "before _anything_ else should happen," Bois closed his eyes, "I know that I don't have the resolve to do so."  
  
"Reggie--" started Lovell.  
  
"I'm not as strong as you are, Jack." Bois stared at their hands, the corners of his mouth dragging down. "The only way for me to do it would be to remove the temptation completely. For me to never see you again." He sniffed and looked up.  
  
"Reggie," Lovell ran his thumb over the backs of Bois' fingers and gave him a smile, "perhaps there might be another way?"  
  
Bois shrugged half-heartedly. "I don't see that there is."  
  
"If denial will not work for us," said Lovell, "then perhaps we should forgo denial."  
  
Bois frowned at him.  
  
"You told me that you enjoyed it," said Lovell, "and I know that I enjoyed it--"  
  
"I do not mean to make myself a criminal!" hissed Bois.  
  
"And we won't be," said Lovell, "as long as we take care to remain discreet."  
  
Bois let out a desperate laugh. "You can't seriously be suggesting..."  
  
Lovell shrugged. "I don't see what other option is open to us. You say that we shouldn't see each other again, but I know that I am not up to that task, just as I know that you are not up to it."  
  
Bois opened his mouth but Lovell continued talking. "How long do you really think we could go without seeing each other, Reggie?" Lovell nodded at Bois' dressing gown. "It has been only two days and yet you can't bear to get dressed while I have already risked making a scene by doing something foolish."  
  
"You _are_ a fool," whispered Bois. One corner of his mouth curled upwards.  
  
"If we try to keep our distance for even longer," said Lovell, "how long will it be before one of us does something very reckless? We're not going to be able to avoid each other completely in society, you know."  
  
Bois huffed a small laugh. "Poor Lady Whiteridge," he said. "She'd get the shock of her life."  
  
"Exactly," smiled Lovell. "We should do this for her benefit if not for anything else."  
  
Bois laughed and bit his lip, looking down and leaning closer to Lovell. "It is a dangerous proposition, Jack. I'm not sure that I--"  
  
"Well then," said Lovell. "Perhaps we shouldn't forgo denial after all; not completely." He squeezed Bois' fingers. "Instead we might try to deny ourselves for as long as we can, and only agree to... succumb to any urge... when we absolutely must." He took a breath. "There might be limits to our resolve but we can be as careful as we can within them." He smiled. "After all, Reggie, before this week we had known each other for months and yet had stooped to nothing worse than a pat on the back and a handshake."  
  
Bois huffed. "It won't be easy, Jack," he said. "Not now that I know..." His cheeks flushed. "But you think it will be possible? To deny ourselves for most of the time?"  
  
"If it means that I am allowed to remain in your life," breathed Lovell, looking down, "I would do anything. Because losing you would destroy me."  
  
"Oh, Jack," said Bois, hands trembling, "it would destroy me too." He took a breath and bit his lip. "It will be difficult," he said after a moment, "but I shall try to hold out for as long as I can."  
  
"And so shall I," replied Lovell. "Indeed, it may even strengthen our resolve for longer if we know that we _will_ allow ourselves to... to..." he coughed, "when it becomes too much to bear."  
  
"Yes," said Bois, squeezing Lovell's hands and looking up. "Yes. We shall be strong. The both of us."  
  
"The both of us," echoed Lovell, looking to Bois with a smile.  
  
Bois smiled in return. Then Bois' gaze lowered. Lovell's did the same.  
  
With a huff, Bois sat back, absently moistening his lips.  
  
Lovell coughed, pulling away his hands. "If that is our plan," he said, smoothing down his trousers. "I was thinking that we might do best to have a change of scenery." He looked to Bois. "Reggie, is there any chance that the invitation to visit your uncle and aunt still stands?"  
  
"Oh!" Bois' eyes widened. "It does." He smiled. "Of course it does. A stay in the country would do us well. We could go tomorrow, even."  
  
"I should like that," replied Lovell. "I should like that very much." He reached across and gave Bois' hands another squeeze.  
  
Bois smiled at him and Lovell smiled in return.  
  
"In that case," Lovell stood up, "I suppose I should go and prepare for our trip." He walked over to pick up his hat. "Although I'm not sure I have many clothes for the country."  
  
Bois looked up. "Jack," he said, "will you come back for dinner? I should like for you to eat here tonight."  
  
"Here?" Lovell paused. "Just the two of us?" He coughed. "Are you sure that you--"  
  
"Yes," said Bois. "Very sure. We are resolved. And besides, I don't think I could bear to go another evening without you." He glanced across the room. "You could even play the piano afterwards," he said fondly. "I do so love to hear you play."  
  
"Well then." Lovell looked down briefly before giving Bois a soft smile. "I'd be delighted to, Reggie."


End file.
